


in the rainfall

by variable_fourteen



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 20:01:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16980894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/variable_fourteen/pseuds/variable_fourteen
Summary: “I love you” he says it out loud, pulling it from your open mouth into his. You are alive for those moments when he speaks precisely what you are thinking. The solid evidence that he knows you, the surety in his voice, it almost hurts you how sweet it is.





	in the rainfall

It’s been raining all night, fragrant drops rolling off the blue nettles of the pines. You and Ford got caught in the downpour half a mile from the shack, a cold and wet end to the four day hike into the thick Gravity Falls forest to find a Bigfoot he had known before the portal. When you finally ducked inside, Ford smelled like wet wool and fat water droplets were rolling down your temples.

You dried both of your packs and took a hot shower while Ford made sure his journal was still pristine. You scrounged up eggs and fried them overhard like he likes while he showered and the two of you ate them with buttered wheat toast and apples dipped in peanut butter. He had tried to stay up to annotate his notes but you dragged him to bed when he began napping in his own hand, glasses falling down the bridge of his nose. You loved the man, but Bigfoot was not as kind as he remembered and you seriously missed your mattress.

When you fell asleep, tucked up next to Ford under the plush red quilt, the sound of the rain was soft but now it is pounding against the wooden roof. A blinding crack of lightning hits the dark room for a moment and you snuggle closer to the torso under your cheek, your breath agitating the gray hair on his chest. The thunder that follows makes your eyes blink open. Silent and awake, you watch the rippling sheets of rain against the windowpane.

Your arm, stretched over the subtle softness of his bare stomach, shifts to hold him closer. Your fingertips run gently over the velvety skin covering his ribcage. Ford always radiates heat and the supple warmth of his chest is comforting underneath your cheekbone. You can feel his exhales brushing the crown of your skull, long and deep with sleep. The arm trapped within the crescent space between his neck and the pillow stretches so you can brush against the soft gray hair curling around his ear. He smells like clean mint and the familiar scent of the bed you share.

Lightning strikes again, chased immediately by raucous thunder, and his eyes fly open with a sharp inhale. You hear his heart flutter for a moment. His hand tightens on the curve of your waist as he fully awakens.

“Honey?” his voice is gravelly from sleep and he rubs his face roughly with his free hand. He props his head on a bent arm to see if you are awake. When your gaze meets, his eyes soften and his mouth curves into a secret crooked smile. He lets a length of your hair fall between two of his fingers before tracing small, loose spirals into the skin of your shoulder blade. You watch his face.

In the lowlight, Ford’s heavy lids darken his brown eyes and the full curve of his nose rises from the shadowy planes of his face. Sometimes when you see him right at the edge of sleep, you mourn the lonely years you spent without him and wonder if you would have liked him when he was young. But then he says your name, knowing and low, and your body heats with gratitude that you can touch him, can exist with him at all. You reach out to trace the outer arc of his thin lips, catching the heat of his exhale in the curve of your palm. Ford envelops your hand in his and presses a dry kiss to the center.

“Did the thunder wake you?” His low voice rises through the air and you laugh at the scent of his breath, bitter from sleep.

“Is it really that bad?” He reaches over for the half empty glass of water he always sits on the nightstand. He takes a sip, hands the glass to you, and fumbles in the dark for his glasses so he can watch your drink deeply. You know what is coming. His follows the movement of your swallow and his eyelashes flutter as he arches toward you, lips pursing delicately, clearly hoping for a kiss. You roll your eyes fondly, shift to return the glass to the nightstand and stop a millimeter from his lips.

You say his name, pulling it from the depths of your lungs, and press forward to give him what he wants. The kiss is chaste and fleeting and he follows you for a moment when you pull away. His big hand curls around the base of your skull and he draws you forward for more.

His hot tongue presses immediately to the seam of your lips and you let him in with a quick grin. You feel him running along the row of your bottom teeth then flicking up to push into the divots of your palette. Ford tastes heavy with sleep and you sigh openly when his tongue slides against yours. Another bolt of lightning shocks the room. You pull away in surprise, but you return swiftly to rest your forehead against his at a weird angle to keep his glasses safe on his nose.

“Ford.” You speak his name again and he looks at you from under his lashes. His hand rests on your cheek, extra finger easily curling around your jaw. The kisses come in frantic succession. He rises to sit against the headboard and you chase after him, tucking your calves under your thighs, pressing against the outside edge of his thick legs. You bend your spine, lowering to slide your lips solidly against his slick ones. He groans when you take his swollen bottom lip gently between your teeth and his wide hands duck under your thin shirt to ghost rapidly along your sides.

You lift your arms, letting him pull the cloth from your skin. He inhales quietly in the loud rain at the sight of your bare torso and you cup his cheek in response. When he nuzzles his stubbled skin into your open palm, you straddle his muscular thighs. The hair curling on them tickles the back of your legs as you get comfortable in his lap. You would bet the shack that he’s blushing. Both his open palms slide from your waist up the curves of your back to curl around your shoulders, pulling you closer. He arcs his thick neck to press kisses into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, sucking wet marks into the keen skin there. When he nips your skin with the edge of his front teeth you jolt forward, colliding with his heaving chest.

He continues attending to the skin there, alternating between eager suction and presses of his tongue. Your fingers knot into his thick hair, nails digging into his scalp when he bites hard enough to leave a mark. You pull away and curve deeply to kiss his chest, trying to feel his heart beat against your open mouth.

His head hits the headboard with a crack when you brush your thumb across his stiff nipple. You can feel his focus like a physical weight on your shoulders. You press your tongue flat against his chest and drag it up the line of his neck over the raised skin of his tattoo, smiling to yourself at the thought of the star, until you reach the vulnerable flesh behind his ear. You scrape your lower teeth up the shell and whisper his name. He shivers against you. The rain picks up, cresting into a comfortable roar.

One of his hands skips from your shoulder to your rib cage to rest under the curve of your breast. His thumb runs up to brush, fleeting, against your nipple. You release his ear with a gasp and grind slowly into his lap at the touch. He presses the side of his face flush to yours.

“I want-.” He trails off, wet breath caressing the contours of your ear, spreading goosebumps over your skin like wildfire. He repeats himself, almost silent in the rain and the backs of your knees start to sweat. You say his name out loud, repeating it again and again between tender kisses to the tops of his shoulders.

You can feel his solid arousal as you shift against him and you run a finger under the waistband of his briefs, thumb rubbing against the grain of his happy trail. He inhales sharply when your knuckles brush the clothed swell of his cock.

“I want,” he says it again, almost desperate in the darkness. His rough thumb rests on the swell of your lower lip and you open your mouth wantonly to the intrusion. Ford’s finger surges forward to rest on the softness of your tongue and his others spread down the skin of your neck. His thumb is cool, tasting like salt and the faintest, familiar tang of the ink he uses in his journals. His weighty gaze watches his own thumb petting the wet muscle in your mouth and his breath hitches. Your heart stutters and he stares at the delicate undulation of your throat as you swallow.

_I love you. I love you. I love you._ You want to speak as you watch him watch you. The edges of his brown eyes are soft and they meet yours intensely. He seems fascinated by you, studying the small stretch at the corner of your mouth and the press of his possessive thumb on your tongue. The way he looks at you makes you breathe hard. You roll your tongue against his finger.

“I love you” he says it out loud, pulling it from your open mouth into his. You are alive for those moments when he speaks precisely what you are thinking. The solid evidence that he knows you, the surety in his voice, it almost hurts you how sweet it is. His thumb curves into your tongue, fingernail scraping lightly, as he draws it out. The length runs against the edge of your teeth and through the smooth slick of your inner lip. The digit breeches the seam between the inside and outside of you to wet your dry lower lip. You say it back to him, his thumb purposefully light so you can speak unencumbered.

You rub the heel of your palm against the swell of his cock and he inhales sharply, hand dropping to curl around the back of yours, holding it still so he can grind up against your open palm. You say his name with a laugh and roll off him to remove your underwear. You snap the elastic of his briefs playfully before taking those off too. His reddening cock rises free and the heat pooling at the base of your spine deepens.  
You crawl back up his body and rest your cheek to the hairy skin of his upper thigh. You leave a sloppy kiss there and press a small nip into the hard bone of his hip. His wide hands rest on the curve of your skull, threading through your hair. You press the flat of your tongue to the underside of his cock, running from the base to ghost over the tip before taking the head fully within your mouth. You look up at him, his eyes liquid with anticipation and hot desire behind his partially fogged glasses. God, you really loved him.

His breath hitches and he says your name as you pull away to lick your open palm. You loosen your jaw as you draw him in your mouth and wrap a wet hand around the base. He rolls his hips pressing into your open mouth and you weigh down his hipbone with your forearm to keep him from bucking. The sound of his breathing quickens, hot and loud. The weight of his cock sliding against your tongue makes you groan and you press deeper until you feel him lightly brush the back of your throat.

“Fuck, honey. I-I can’t. I want,” he trails off into a full moan, cock twitching in your mouth, and you pull back with a pop to press your open mouth to the soft skin of his balls. You bite at his opposite hipbone before surging forward to kiss him wetly on the mouth. His fingertips draw lightly up the column of your spine and you settle into his lap, grinding you ass back into his hard cock.

He traps your wrists in his capable grip and squeezes, tripping right on the edge of too tight. You lift your hand so you can press tiny kisses to his knuckles. You rise to your knees and guide the head of his cock into the clutch of your body. He groans your name when you settle flush into the crook of his lap, taking his thick length slowly. You rise and fall, building an easy tempo he eagerly meets with the roll of his hips. You clutch at his shoulder for leverage, digging your fingernails into the muscle. He licks the flat of his thumb and presses it hard against your hot clit. His other hand draws fingertips lightly down your neck and the bone of your sternum to flick against your nipple.

You say his name, letting it fall wetly from your lips in a low chant and he surges forward, cutting you off with an open-mouthed kiss. You shift you angle and he groans, loud in the wet air. He increases the pressure of his thumb, rubbing with the tempo you set. You moan his name and drop your forehead heavily onto his shoulder, your body curling with pleasure, getting close. His hips stutter and you know he’s almost there too.

You shift forward, pressing your chests together, letting the dry slide of your nipple against his skin pull you closer. As the tension builds you groan and he sinks his teeth into the muscle of your shoulder. You come hard, and the pulsing of your orgasm through your body pulls him swiftly over the edge. The twitch of his cock and the feel of his release inside you make you feel irrevocably his. He keeps thrusting, riding out both of your pleasure until you just feel the edge of overstimulation.

You draw away from his sweaty flesh and climb out of the bed, knowing he wants to shower before getting back under the covers. He follows you into the bathroom and the sound of the falling water soon joins the rain outside. You climb in together and the hot water chases the cooling sweat from your bodies. Fondly, you run your hands along the muscle of his back, pressing yourself fully against him. Your head rests against his chest and you duck to kiss his ribs.

“I love you” he says it again before pressing a soft kiss to the crest of your head. A crack of thunder makes both of you jump and then laugh in the hot spray. You rub the bar of peppermint soap between your two hands, building a silky lather and allowing the cool scent to bloom within the steamy shower. You press the suds into the skin of his pectorals, swirling the white foam that catches in the dusting of gray hair on his chest. Onto his capable shoulders you continue and then down his arms before briefly enfolding his large hands within your own. He lets the falling water rinse the foam, looking at you intensely from under hooded eyes. You move to his strong legs, massaging his thighs and then gently kneeling on the floor of the shower to wash his muscular calves and run your hands along the lines of his ankles. You feel him earnestly watching you clean his body, silent in the soft sound of rushing rain. When you rise, he kisses you reverently on the mouth and wraps you within his arms before running his rough hands slicked with soap over the skin of your body.

You dry off together and return to the soft warmth of the bed. You press the length of your body against his, settling you head on his chest and tangling your legs together. He yawns loudly and reaches down, tapping your arm until you rise up to kiss him once more before sleep. The rain falls.


End file.
